An Acquired Taste
by Serenity V
Summary: "I don't know," Jacob tells Gwen, "I think love is, uh, more of an acquired taste." It certainly had been for him. The only thing unexpected about Elizabeth Scott was that she was boringly normal. Until she wasn't. Sequence of pre-series oneshots in which Liz shows Jacob just how unpredictable she can be. He never saw her coming.
1. What He Expected

**A.N.:** I got the idea for this scene when I read the first chapter of Evey Edge's _Defective Merchandise._ I loved the concept, and it just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote my own version.

 _ **What He Expected**_

Jacob Phelps had done his homework on Elizabeth Scott, and it had been months since he'd first insinuated himself, as elementary school teacher Tom Keen, into her circle of friends and acquaintances. Through it all, he could not, for the life of him, see how she was anything more than just another pretty face. What was so special about her that Raymond Reddington, of all people, would show such interest? The only abnormality Jacob saw in the situation was that everything about the woman was perfectly normal.

"Come on Liz, where's your sense of romance?" a woman about halfway down the picnic table from him prodded. It was the weekend, and the group had gotten together to spend the afternoon at a park.

"You _do_ know who you're talking to, right?" Scott joked. It was well known she had some struggles in that department. No one seemed to know many details about her latest fiasco, but apparently, she'd caught the guy cheating on her, and it hadn't ended well. It had been only a little over a week since, but she'd already been on a date with someone else, some med student called Nik whom none of them really knew.

"Come on," her friend insisted, "You can't tell me somewhere, deep down in there, you don't have a little girl who still believes in love at first sight."

Liz snorted, "You really don't want me to answer that." Jacob, only half-aware at that point, was startled out of his boredom by her tone. While light on the surface, he could have sworn there'd been an edge of warning there.

"Oh, really? Now I'm interested," a man joined in, "Why don't you give us your official opinion, Dr. Scott?"

Something flashed in Liz's eyes, too quickly to read, before she rolled them, answering, "All right, you asked for it. 'Love at first sight,' doesn't exist in any real sense, only in the mind. It's something people can _convince_ themselves they feel. That's it. Sorry to disappoint, Ellie." Jacob blinked. Either he was so bored and tired of normal that his mind was playing tricks on him, or Scott had stopped herself from saying something very different. He could have sworn he'd seen a coldness in her eyes he'd never noticed before.

Her friends grumbled good-naturedly, and the moment passed, Liz reverting to the woman he thought he knew. She pulled out her phone, reading a text message, before tossing it across the table at her friend, whining, "Ugh, tell him to leave me alone." She sounded more exasperating than anything else, and the display of childishness was actually sort of amusing, even endearing.

"Ronnie again?" Ellie asked sympathetically, handing Liz back her phone.

"Is there a more obnoxious man on the _planet?"_

"Don't worry, Liz. If there is, I'm sure you'll end up dating him next."

"Thanks, Gary," Scott answered dryly.

Everything was right in her little world for a few minutes after that, until a man arrived and approached the table. Liz stiffened when she caught sight of him, a dark look entering her eyes, as she practically growled, "Who told him we would be here?"

The change startled Jacob so much, he barely processed the response as one of her friends mentioned something about a careless post on Facebook. For the first time, he realized he'd never before seen Scott truly angry.

Liz glanced around at the audience before abruptly standing, saying, "I'll be right back after I take care of this," and stalking off behind a cluster of trees for some privacy, Ronnie in tow.

Jacob didn't think Scott's ex was about to murder her in the middle of a park in broad daylight, but figured he may as well follow, quietly excusing himself from the table as conversation picked back up to fill the awkward void.

As he neared the couple, staying out of sight and leaning casually against a tree so as to appear inconspicuous to passersby, he heard the man speaking.

"-care about you, Babe, really."

"Really?" Scott's voice was dry as desert and cold as ice, "So, you show me that you care about me by screwing-"

"Oh, come on Liz, It's not like that. That was just a little fun. You're the one I love."

"You love me?" There was something guarded about her voice that set off ten kinds of warning bells in Jacob's head.

"Yes!"

"Alright, then," Liz said calmly, as though remarking on the weather, "Prove it."

Jacob shifted to see her open her purse, taking out a bottle of water and- was that a pill bottle? He hadn't known Scott was on any sort of medication.

 _Unless she isn't,_ the thought came unbidden to his mind. _Oh, come on, this is Scott. Normal, boring Scott._

Normal, boring Scott, whose face was blank as any trained operative's as she held Ronnie's gaze, knocking back a mouthful of pills and washing them down with a few gulps of water.

It took Jacob a moment to regain the ability to form coherent thoughts, and once he did, all he could think was, _That did not just happen._

The idiot who stood staring at Scott took a little longer to process, mouth hanging open, until he finally asked, "What did you just do?"

 _What does it look like?_ Jacob thought, rolling his eyes. His sarcasm was back; he must be recovering. He looked back at Scott's still composed features, waiting for her to realize what she'd just done and freak out.

"You said you care about me. This is your chance to prove it. Do you care enough to save me from my suicide attempt?" Her tone was more suited to asking something like, _Do you like cinnamon?_

Jacob found it very hard for people to surprise him these days; he was just too good at reading them. Now, though, he was flabbergasted. Scott had just done the most insane thing he'd ever seen a "normal" person do, with – objectively – rather slight provocation, and rather than emotional or unbalanced, she seemed completely in control, looking as though she found her actions no more strange than stopping to smell the roses on a walk through the garden. He was perhaps the best operative the Major had ever trained. How had he pegged this girl so wrong?

"You're insane!" Ronnie exclaimed.

Liz actually smiled, cold and predatory, "Yes. Now love me enough to deal with it, or _get out of my life."_

Shaken, the man left, muttering as he went, "What the freak? Crazy little b-"

Jacob watched the woman as she released a long sigh, muttering dryly, "That went well."

Cold and businesslike, she pulled out her cellphone and called 911, surprising him again by giving her location as a street corner at the opposite side of the park. What was she playing at? Did she-

"It's Tom, right?" she asked, having just ended the call.

Jacob blinked. Had he just been made? He really shouldn't have been surprised by that point.

Apparently, he'd taken too long to respond.

"I promise, I'm not a danger to others, just myself," Scott joked, seeming as relaxed as she had with her friends, before her ex had shown up. "Well, unless you _really_ piss me off."

Jacob stumbled out into the open, stuttering, "No, right, sorry, I didn't- I was just-" _Breathe, Phelps._ "Uh, yeah, right, that's me. Tom Keen." What was wrong with him? Yeah, his cover was supposed to be a little awkward, but it was supposed to be _intentional._ This was just…happening.

Scott actually looked _amused,_ as if she found it _cute_ or something. At least, she didn't say anything. Small mercies: He wasn't sure his pride could have handled it right then.

"So, like I'm sure you heard, I've got someplace I need to be." _Right,_ he thought at the flippant remark, _because it's not like your rendezvous with an ambulance is a big deal or anything._

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor." She finally had the decency to look a little insecure. Honestly, after what he'd just witnessed, he could see this favor being anything from reminding her what day of the week it was to breaking into Fort Knox.

"Uh, sure, what do you need?"

"I was wondering if you could possibly just tell the guys I was wiped out after dealing with Ronnie and wanted to just go home and relax. I'd rather they not know about all…this."

Finally, it clicked. That was why she'd wanted to meet the ambulance away from the group. Did she want to spare her friends the worry, or was she worried what they'd think of her? He saw her watching him and realized she was still waiting for an answer.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I can do that."

"Thanks," she smiled, before turning and walking towards her destination.

Jacob started after her, "Wait, Liz, can I walk you there? I'd feel really bad if something happened to you on the way."

She waved away his concern, "I'll be fine until I get there. I've still got about two and a half minutes before they should really start affecting me. Plenty of- I really shouldn't have said that, should I?"

"Actually, it's kind of reassuring."

Jacob inwardly cheered as she paused to gape at him in surprise. About time she got a taste of her own medicine.

"You think it's reassuring I know how long it takes before a suicidal overdose starts affecting someone?"

"Well, I mean, it means you knew what you were doing back there, so that stunt you pulled really wasn't all that-"

"Crazy?" Scott smirked.

"I was going to say reckless," he smiled.

"Wow, you're really a glass-half-full kind of guy, aren't you?"

He shrugged, "Anyway, if you're up for the company, we can walk and talk. What do you say? It'd make me feel a little better."

"Hanging out with the crazy chick who just poisoned herself to scare off her ex would make you feel better? I don't even want to know what you teach those students of yours is socially acceptable behavior."

Jacob shook his head, the smile on his face completely genuine for the first time in a long time. This woman had just knocked back a suicidal dose of pills _to prove a point,_ and now she was strolling along, cracking jokes about his teaching. How had he missed this? He was struck by a sudden desire to know what else she had hidden beneath that boringly normal façade.

"You know, I originally came after you because I wanted to ask what you were really going to say back there."

"About what?"

"That love at first sight thing. I've got a feeling whatever you really wanted to say would've been a lot less…nice."

Scott chuckled, a glint of mischief in her eyes "I was about to give my personal opinion, before remembering Gary had asked for the professional."

"Are the two very different?"

"More in tone than in substance."

"I'd like to hear it."

"I don't think you would." And, there was that hint of warning again.

"Come on," he grinned, "You haven't scared me off yet."

Liz seemed to consider for a moment, before her gaze darkened and, speaking with a bitterness he'd never seen in her, said, "People believe in 'love at first sight' because it's a fantasy they can latch onto in the hope it'll be their escape from all life's crap. It's something people convince themselves they feel so they can pretend they've found something worthwhile until they get their hearts broken and realize what idiots they were."

"Wow. Sounds like personal experience." He'd tried to be delicate, but he could practically _feel_ the walls slam up as she raised her guard, regarding him warily.

"I was a stupid teenager."

Jacob decided to push his luck. "What was his name?"

"Frank." Her tone carried the finality of a period at the end of a sentence, and he knew the conversation was over.

They walked in silence for a moment before he offered – because that's what normal people did, right? – "You can do way better."

She looked back at him, every trace of darkness gone from her expression. Was she really so mercurial, or was her mask just that good? Smiling, warm and inviting, she asked, "Was that a suggestion?"

The first thoughts to run through his mind were all curses. What was he supposed to say to that? _Friend of a friend._ In all honesty, he was probably already closer than he should be after today. Do something like what she'd suggested, and his mission would be _so screwed._

Just as he opened his mouth to stutter out some sort of response, Liz started laughing, the fullest, most free laugh he'd heard from her that day.

"Oh my gosh," she choked out between guffaws, "The look on your _face!_ I was just kidding," she reassured. "I'll be seeing if it works out with Nick before I go looking for anyone else, anyway, but I just couldn't resist. Honestly, did you think I'd _really_ expect that to be an offer after the crazy-show you just saw?"

Laughing half because he had no clue how to respond to something like that and half because – miracle of miracles! – he'd actually found it _funny,_ Jacob replied, "Liz, your crazy has _nothing_ on a room full of sugar-hyped fourth graders."

It took them both a moment to register that he'd sounded completely serious, and that set them off all over again. Jacob couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely laughed that hard, not for a cover or just playing a part, and that's when he realized that it _was_ genuine. Good thing he'd officially become immune to shock over the course of the day.

Watching over Elizabeth Scott might be a lot more interesting than he'd thought up to that point. She really was normal in a lot of ways – normal friends, normal job, normal goals. He'd seen so many different sides of her, though. A dark and fearless streak wide enough to warrant the interest of the Concierge of Crime, for instance. An ability to keep it hidden under amiability and humor that reminded him of an onion. Someone had once compared him to one – well, one of his covers, anyway. Jacob had always been…hesitant to apply the analogy to himself, unsure of what he may find beneath the layers of masks and training and sarcasm, unsure if there was anything _to_ find under it all. Scott, though…He couldn't wait to start peeling away the outer skin of normalcy to expose the layers he hadn't known existed until today.


	2. Protection

**A.N.:** Thanks for the review! It's nice to know someone else is enjoying this :)

 _ **Protection**_

It had been about a year since Jacob had been hired to watch over Liz, and the time had been largely uneventful, all things considered. There had been a couple of haphazard swipes at her, but they'd been unnervingly easy to dispatch, leaving him with the uneasy feeling that whoever was behind them was only testing the waters. All told, the most nerve-wracking incidents had been of Liz's own doing; she was observant, and in the early days of Jacob's assignment, she'd spotted him nearby a couple of times he hadn't intended, sending him scrambling for believable explanations. He'd had to change his strategy rather early on, using friendship as an excuse to stay openly close to her rather than trying to remain unnoticed. It hadn't been his original directive, but it was the only way to do his job effectively without raising suspicion, and he didn't mind the new method nearly as much as one might expect. He did, after all, specialize in deep cover operations.

"So," Liz announced, sitting across from him with a smile, "I've decided that I'm not going to complain about Nik tonight."

Jacob allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk upward a bit, making a show of looking at his watch, before teasing, "I don't know, we've still got about four hours to go before tomorrow morning. Really think you can make it that long?"

Liz tried to look offended, but the effect was ruined by her smile – _Well,_ Jacob amended, _maybe_ ruined _isn't exactly the right word_ – as she playfully kicked him under the table, exclaiming, "Hey! I am _not_ that bad!"

 _"Ow!_ Alright, alright, whatever you say. Crazy woman," he grinned, muttering that last comment only just loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled, but there was no heat behind it. The whole "crazy" thing had become a sort of inside joke between them after he'd witnessed her go a little overboard to scare off an ex-boyfriend.

"What are you going to do, hit me again?"

"I just might," she smirked.

"Wow, someone's had a bad day. Come on, what did he do this time?"

Liz just shook her head, knocking back a substantial draught of the drink in front of her. It was a Friday night, and as they often did, the pair had met for drinks, just the two of them, in a quiet little bar. Liz would drop the cold, professional mask she wore around her colleagues and the normal, well-adjusted mask she wore around everyone else, and let him see the real her, the face she showed only to him and Sam. She would complain about her coworkers and her boyfriend, "Tom" would complain about unmanageable students and their defensive parents, and the two of them would crack off-color jokes the whole time.

 _Alright,_ he thought, as she admitted that she'd had a long day, but it "actually wasn't Nik's fault this time, just something at work," _Maybe it wasn't strictly necessary for my cover to become her best friend, but it's not like it's hurting anything. After all, the woman needs_ someone _to actually talk to._ It had taken time and effort to convince her to let him in, but it had been worth it.

It took an hour, some alcohol, and a bad joke on Jacob's part, but she finally did vent her latest frustrations about Nik. Unfortunately, that was only to avoid what was really bothering her. It took another hour, a lot of patience, and actually caring about the answer – And when had he started to do that? Around the same time he'd started thinking of her as _Liz_ rather than _Scott,_ he figured, though when that had been was anyone's guess – but she did eventually open up about the case that had stressed her out that day. She didn't give away many details – the woman was like Fort Knox when it came to keeping secrets for the job, and Jacob was careful not to even consider turning that statement around on himself – but he got the gist of it, and knew what it meant that she was willing to share even that much with him.

After that, they were able to enjoy the rest of their night out, and Jacob was almost able to convince himself that his biggest worry was all the papers he had to grade over the weekend. He surprised himself by almost wishing it was. The night wore on and soon came to an end, the pair walking down the dark, nearly deserted street. Acutely aware of their isolation – and, thus, vulnerability – Jacob was careful not to lower his guard, scanning their quiet surroundings for any hidden threats. Unfortunately, that didn't prepare him for when, as he and Liz passed the mouth of an alley, a man emerged, coming at him from behind. He only just managed to quell his instincts, allowing his assailant to grab him, holding a gun to his temple. He could tell from the practiced motion that the man was a professional; what exactly that meant for the context of the attack remained to be seen.

"Elizabeth Scott." _Crap._ They were after Liz specifically, and Jacob for once had no clue how to deal with the situation. He couldn't let any harm come to her, but in his current position, he had very few options, and all of them would blow his cover.

Liz's eyes were wide with shock and horror, as she managed, "I-I don't know who-"

"Shut up. Do you think I'm stupid? I know exactly who you are." Jacob watched as Liz's face morphed into a neutral mask, her eyes still worried as they met his, but with an edge of control and calculation.

"Now," the man holding him continued, "You have two choices. Get in the van, or I bury a bullet in your boyfriend's brain."

"I'm not her boyfriend." The words were out of Jacob's mouth before he could stop them – and, really, wasn't he better trained than that? – but, he'd at least managed to keep his tone closer to out-of-his-depth-teacher-losing-his-filter-and-blurting-out-the-first-thing-to-cross-his-mind than irritated-operative-throwing-snark-at-the-guy-threatening-his-mission-because-something-more-substantial-would-blow-his-cover. Small victory, but hey, he'd take what he could get. And, the night had started out so well.

Liz watched them carefully, probably trying to ascertain the risks of messing with this guy, and Jacob felt a sudden curiosity. How would she deal with the situation? She was strong and smart, and she'd been with the Feds for about a year now. He saw something flicker in her eyes as she, too, recognized the skill and experience of their adversary.

"Alright," she said calmly. "Okay, I'll come with you. Just let him go."

He didn't have to fake the widening of his eyes. She didn't really think that was going to happen, right?

"Liz-"

"It's okay, Tom. Everything's going to be okay." She said it with such certainty, looking steadily into his eyes, that though he could see in her expression she did not expect the other man to comply with her request, Jacob believed her, and thought he would have even if he'd really been just "Tom Keen," without the last resort of his own abilities to fall back on.

The man holding him snorted. "Nice try, but this is what's going to happen. You're going to get in the van, and we're going to take a ride to a nice little place we've got all set up for you. He's coming with us to make sure you behave yourself, and if you're very, very good, we'll let him go when it's all over. Capisce?"

"It doesn't look like I have much choice." Her voice was carefully blank, but she didn't seem defeated. Rather, Jacob got the impression she felt in control of the situation. At face value, that was laughable, but it did make sense. Her captor wouldn't risk damaging his leverage until he was confident he had no further need of him. As long as Liz let him think he could use her companion to control her – and that she was dangerous enough to warrant such measures – she would have time to think of a plan without having to worry about Tom.

A second man drove the van, while the first kept his gun trained on Jacob. When they reached their destination, a hint of victory entered Liz's eyes, though she maintained an impressive poker face. It took a moment for Jacob to see the reason, and when he did, he could have kicked himself for not being the first to notice it. The structure into which they were led was surrounded by tenement buildings. _Crowded_ tenement buildings. And, it just so happened that the gun with which he'd been threatened wasn't fitted with a silencer. Of course, there were plenty of ways to kill him that didn't require a gun, but all Liz had to do was threaten to scream, and he'd become pretty much indispensable as long as they remained in that location. He found himself impressed by how sharply she was thinking in such a stressful situation, and wondered if he'd need to be of any use at all; she seemed to have a pretty good handle on things.

Once safely inside, the first man turned to the driver, saying, "Watch them. I've got to make a call." As he left the room, most likely to report Liz's capture to his employer – and Jacob really needed to figure out who that was – the other man drew his own weapon, glaring at the pair. His outward hostility couldn't mask his nerves, though. He fidgeted with the gun, eyes shifting uneasily between Jacob and Liz.

 _Crap,_ Jacob thought. _Twitchy. That makes him dangerous._

Movement caught his eye, and he stared in shock and horror as Liz strolled right up to the man, who levelled the gun at her, shouting, "Stop! What are you doing? I'll shoot you, I swear!"

At that, she finally halted, barely a foot away from him, her expression measured as she analyzed the man standing before her. It was a look Jacob had seen before. _Crap,_ he realized, _She's going to try to talk him down._ There was no way that would end well. The guy's anxiety made him volatile.

Suddenly, Liz's expression transformed into one of utter contempt, as she snorted, "No you won't."

Jacob had been wrong. _Of course,_ she wasn't going to attempt talking him down. _No,_ that would be too _pedestrian_ for Elizabeth Scott. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have laughed out loud. He relaxed, deciding to trust her ability. This was, after all, her profession, and he'd long wanted an opportunity to see her in action. She didn't disappoint. He watched the guard grow angry and agitated as she goaded him into making a mistake.

"You are _way_ out of your depth here. Your partner out there's the one with the brains –and the balls. You're good for nothing but to stand here and look threatening, and guess what? I'm not buying it. You're not even smart enough to threaten the one you haven't already confessed to needing alive!"

His aim wavered involuntarily, as though about to switch targets at that reminder, and Liz used the moment of weakness to take that last step forward, force the gun towards the ceiling with her left hand as the guard fired reflexively, and knock him out cold with a single right hook. She retrieved his gun as he fell to the ground, the first man bursting into the room shouting, "What're you doing, you idiot? Someone could've heard-"

He froze, seeing Liz standing over his downed partner, gun in hand. He immediately raised his own weapon to fire, but that split second of hesitation was all she needed to put a bullet between his eyes. Jacob didn't think he'd ever respected the woman more. He'd been hired to protect her, but she – in the middle of the night, with no warning and even a few drinks in her – had just protected herself _and_ a civilian.

 _Civilian,_ he remembered, _Right._

"Oh my gosh! What- What was that?"

She looked at him carefully, trying to gauge exactly how freaked out he was. "My job," she answered simply in a reassuring tone. "You know I'm in the mobile emergency psych unit. This is basically what I do. Only, I usually don't have to shoot people." She offered a small smile.

"Tom" let out a shaky laugh, as though balanced on the knife-edge between shock and hysteria, before making a show of pulling himself together while she called it in. She picked up the second gun, in case the first man regained consciousness before the authorities arrived, before heading over to him.

"Hey."

"Hey," he responded, looking at her as though she were keeping him grounded. He tried to ignore the thought that, if he'd needed it, it probably would have worked. Now was not the time to examine that; he had a part to play. He was as good at his job as she was hers.

"You going to be okay?"

He let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Thanks."

"I'm sorry I dragged you into all this. You shouldn't have had to deal with it. Look, you're a good friend, Tom, but I'm not going to ask you to stick around after today. These people have proven-"

"What? Liz…" What was he supposed to say to that? She was trying to distance herself because she was afraid someone would hurt him to get to her. It would take a lot more than a couple dime-a-dozen mercenaries to frighten Jacob, but he couldn't exactly tell her that…Could he?

"You haven't scared me off yet," he said softly, smirking even as his eyes burned with sincerity.

She looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head slightly. "I don't understand…You're a teacher, you've never been exposed to _anything_ like this. How are you handling it so well? Most people would be a terrified wreck."

"Well, I'll admit I'm kind of freaked, but you'll protect me, right?" Jacob teased with a small smile. The crazy thing was, he trusted her to actually do it. Hopefully, she just wouldn't notice that he'd be protecting her, too.

She blinked at the trust so evident in his otherwise light tone and _radiated_ determination as she promised, "Yeah. I will."

From that day forward, she never left home without her gun.


	3. Covert Affair

**A.N.:** Let the record show that I do not condone any form or measure of infidelity. I also think it rather out of character for Liz. When I heard that line in the episode "Eli Matchett," however, I immediately loved the idea of Jacob and Liz having a sort of spy-interaction thing going on in the early days of their relationship; it was just so cute and perfect, so this is me doing my best to justify it.

 _ **Covert Affair**_

There's no such thing as "too deep" for Jacob Phelps. But, glancing from his watch to the phone mounted on the wall and realizing just how much he wants it to ring, Jacob finally admits to himself that he might have pushed the parameters of his mission just a bit too far. Which, of course, translates to being in way over his head.

 _What am I doing here?_ Jacob thought as he waited. _What are_ we _doing?_ The first time he'd looked twice at Liz had been when she'd essentially _poisoned herself_ to get rid of her cheating ex. Now, he'd somehow seduced her into cheating on Nik. She hadn't intended for it to happen; what frightened Jacob was that neither had he. He looked down at his watch: Seven p.m. Right on cue, the phone rang, and he answered. She was coming.

He was actually rather impressed; Liz had been the one to devise their method of communication, and it was exactly the sort of thing he'd actually do if he needed to quietly keep in constant contact with someone and burners weren't an option. He sometimes thought she'd make a great operative, but she had too much of a conscience for that. Jacob sighed as he waited, running a hand through his hair in agitation. The morality of their current situation wasn't the cause of his unease – he'd done so much worse than this – but it bothered Liz. She'd sounded tense on the phone, and he knew she was reaching her limit; soon, she'd do the right thing and tell "Tom" to get lost. Jacob should want that; he and Liz – _Scott,_ he corrected himself, though it was far too late for that – should never have become a "we" to begin with. He should never have gotten close, and he _definitely_ shouldn't have let _her_ so close to _him._ That would all be moot soon, anyway, though. Liz would probably never even want to see him again after they'd let things spiral so far out of control, and frankly, that's what Jacob should be hoping for. L- _Scott_ would keep her distance, and he'd resume the removed "friend of a friend" cover that had been his original mission. Really, that was the best case scenario, a way to salvage the job he'd somehow managed to so thoroughly screw up. So, why did the prospect make him feel so dismal?

"Hey," a voice, soft and hesitant, interrupted his brooding.

"Hey," he answered, lips curving into a smile before he'd even thought about making the expression a conscious decision. Liz was going to do whatever she was going to do. He would just enjoy being close to her while he could and deal with it all when he had to.

"You okay?" she asked, watching him in concern as she sat. "You looked a little down there."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Well, I am now, anyway." And, she really shouldn't have the power to make that happen. No one should. At the moment, though, Jacob couldn't bring himself to care.

His response didn't seem to reassure her. She hesitated, confused and guilty, before saying, "Tom…I don't get it. You're a good guy. I never would have thought…How are you okay with all this? I mean, what are we even _doing?"_

Jacob had expected the question to crop up eventually. Tom Keen wasn't the sort of man who'd seduce a woman into cheating on her boyfriend. Then again, that wasn't really what he'd done. It had all just sort of happened, and he'd been somehow caught up in it and pulled along for the ride. How had that happened? It was the sort of thing that happened to normal people, like Tom Keen. Jacob had never experienced anything like it. With a start, he found himself telling her the unadulterated truth. It's not like he lied to her all the time or anything; most of what he told her was the truth, he'd just never shared anything of this magnitude before. It was, perhaps, the most significant thing he'd ever had in common with his cover.

"I think neither of us really thought this through. I guess…I guess I'm okay with it because I don't expect it to ever actually go anywhere. I just want to be close to you for as long as I can before you run off and marry your doctor," he said with a pained smile.

Apparently, he couldn't say anything right tonight. If anything, Liz looked even more upset. She took a moment to respond, and when she did, he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

"What if…" She spoke softly. "What if I don't want to marry him?"

Jacob froze, pretty sure his heart had just skipped a beat. He should keep his cover. He should fix the mess he'd made of this job. _I'm sorry,_ he should say, _I never should have come between you like this. I care about you Liz, but I think we need to stop seeing each other._

"You need to do what's best for you, Liz," he said. "You need to do what will make you happy. But…Liz, if there's even the smallest chance- I would _love_ a shot with you."

What was he _doing?_ He was an _idiot._ He knew he was more competent than this, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to act rationally where Liz was concerned. There was no way this would end well, he knew that, but…Did it really have to end? His mission was to protect Liz; that sounded rather long-term to him.

"What? Tom, how could you even trust me after…I mean, you're sitting here watching me cheat on my boyfriend, how can you believe I wouldn't do the same to you? You must think I'm such a _hypocrite_ after Ronnie…"

 _"Hey._ Liz, _listen_ to me. First off, you are _nothing_ like Ronnie. This? This isn't you. I mean, you're so torn up about it! I _know_ you, Liz, and I know this isn't like you. You didn't mean for it to happen any more than I did. You're only here because we got too close before you'd decided to really commit yourself to Nik. You just don't know what you want right now, and I bear some of the blame for confusing you. I should never have put you in this position." That, at least, was one hundred percent true. He should never have put _either_ of them in this position, but here they were, and he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Liz nodded, mustering a small smile. "We'll…see what happens," she managed.

…..

A few days later, Jacob's cellphone rang, _Liz_ written across the screen. He grinned; this was it! No more cloak and dagger, waiting for the other shoe to drop – just him and Liz, it was really happening! He couldn't answer fast enough.

"Hey."

"Tom?"

Jacob froze. She was crying.

"Liz? Babe, what's wrong?"

"He _proposed,"_ she sobbed.

Jacob's heart stopped. _No,_ he thought, _There's no way she said yes. Listen to her, she's_ devastated; _there's no way she'd agree to marry him if it hurt her this much,_ he argued. He tried to convince himself that was the only reason he hoped she'd refused. He wasn't entirely successful, but at least he could breathe again.

"What happened? Are you going to be okay?"

Liz made a sound that could have been a laugh and choked out, "Honestly? I don't know. Yeah, I guess I will be. I'll have to be. I just…I never meant to hurt him. I didn't expect him to _propose!_ And then, when I couldn't say yes, I realized I'd _never_ be able to, and I had to break up with him right after _that,_ and- Oh, Tom, he was _devastated!"_

 _Forget about him! I'm worried about_ you. But, that was all Jacob; Tom would never be so insensitive.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"Home."

"I'll be right there."

"You don't have to-"

"Too late, I'm already on my way."

"Okay. Thank you." They ended the call.

It took him about fifteen minutes to reach Liz's apartment. When he did, her tears had long since dried, but she still seemed upset. She smiled upon seeing him, though, and he exulted in her seeming to find his presence comforting.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"So, I hear you're a free woman now."

"That's one way to put it."

"I've kind of been waiting for that, so at the risk of sounding like an insensitive jerk, do you want to go out with me?"

"Not afraid of being a rebound?"

Jacob smirked. "You haven't scared me off yet," he said softly, startling a small laugh out of her.

"Alright then. I'll go out with you, and we'll see how long it takes."

"Good. Awesome. Just remind me, if I ever think about proposing, to run it by you 'hypothetically' first. I'd rather avoid any unpleasant surprises." It was a risk, joking about it so soon, but it paid off, sending them both convulsing with laughter, and if Liz's held an edge of hysteria, well, Jacob would certainly not be the one to point it out.

Jacob knew that pursuing a relationship with Liz was by far the stupidest decision he had ever made. He had never been happier.


	4. For Better

_**For Better (She's Definitely Better)**_

This kept happening.

For the record, Jacob thought as he came to, they never could have taken him if he'd been armed. Unfortunately, Tom Keen didn't carry a gun; it would have been really hard to justify, considering he didn't even know how to use one.

 _Note to self: Stop blundering into isolated alleyways while undercover as a helpless civie._

He sighed, irritated, as he looked around, finding himself in some sort of decrepit warehouse.

 _"Well,_ at least they were original," he muttered, "Not."

Whoever had taken him had seemed mostly competent up to that point, but they'd made a serious mistake. Jacob had been propped against a wall, unrestrained except for his hands, bound in front of him. He was also relatively unharmed, a slight bump on his head where he'd been knocked out, but not even a concussion to show for it. Nothing that could slow him down.

"You're awake," a man emerged from the shadows, coming to stand before him like the villain in some cheesy crime drama. Jacob noticed two other men hovering at the fringes of the room.

"Sorry about all this, but we needed to speak with you privately, and our employer wasn't sure how amenable you'd be before hearing his offer in full."

"What kind of offer we talking about here?"

"It concerns Elizabeth Scott."

It had been almost two years since Jacob had met Lizzie. _Met,_ he snorted, _As if we "met" like normal people._ So far, no threat against her had reached truly worrying proportions, but it seemed that might be about to change. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, Jacob stood.

"What about her?"

"My employer doesn't know what Reddington's interest in her is, but he knows it exists. He's preparing for war, and he'll use any advantage he can find. We need someone in Scott's life, someone to monitor her and her relationship with Reddington. Due to your…position, you seem uniquely suited to the job." Exactly how much did these people know?

"What do you mean, my 'position'?"

"We know Reddington hired you to infiltrate her life." _Well,_ Jacob thought, _you could say that. Of course, you'd be mostly wrong…_ "And, we know you've gotten quite close to her."

The operative nodded, considering the information he'd been given before responding, "Can I ask who this guy is who wants to hire me?"

"For obvious reasons, he's hesitant to reveal himself until you've accepted his offer."

Jacob nodded again. It was the answer he'd expected. He took a deep breath, readying himself. The men holding him would have been ordered not to shoot to kill. That didn't mean they wouldn't if they felt they were out of options, but it would buy him a few seconds. That was all he needed.

Abruptly, he stepped forward and kneed the closest man in the gut, leaving him doubled over and gasping for breath as Jacob snatched the gun from his waistband and put a bullet between the eyes of the guy at one end of the room. The man at the other end had just time enough to pull out his own weapon and get a shot off, but it went wild as Jacob turned and sent him to the same end as his fellow. By that time, the first man had recovered, but Jacob quickly put another step of distance between them, training the gun on him.

"Turn around," he ordered. After watching him warily for a moment, the man complied.

"Tell your boss I don't make a habit of working for people who think the best way to get in touch with me is to _abduct_ me. And, if he seriously wants me to turn on Raymond _freaking_ Reddington, he should talk to my handler." With that, Jacob stepped forward and pistol-whipped the merc before he could respond, leaving him in an unconscious heap on the floor and dropping the gun beside him.

Checking his watch as he left the warehouse, he saw that it was nearly five p.m. Lizzie was supposed to come over for dinner at six. He supposed he could cancel, but he had time, right? Never let it be said that Jacob Phelps was one to turn down a challenge. Besides, she needed this; she'd been hunting a serial killer for the past month, and the case had gone all but cold. She was good at her job, but the rare occasions on which she hit a wall weighed heavily on her. And, her presence would hardly be a hardship. In fact, it may be just what he needed to settle his nerves after that fiasco.

* * *

Jacob had made it to his apartment and gotten cleaned up in record time. He'd managed to hide all sign of his little misadventure save the lump on his head, but that would be easy enough to explain away. He sighed, trying not to worry too much about what had happened. He'd bought some time by referring his prospective client to Bud, but he knew the situation was far from dealt with. A part of him worried Bud would actually give him the go-ahead to turn on Reddington, and what would he do then? He couldn't hurt Lizzie. Well, theoretically he _could,_ though that was by no means certain; the woman was far from helpless. The point was, he _wouldn't._

He wondered when that had happened, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter. What mattered was that it had. And, he was really glad that it had. As Jacob Phelps stood in his kitchen, cutting up _vegetables_ instead of people and waiting for his _Fed_ girlfriend to arrive, it hit him. He was _happy._ Actually, genuinely, happy.

Had he ever been happy before? Not satisfied after a job well done or a night of vice, but this feeling of pure joy and innocent contentment. That warmth that came when he thought of Lizzie's bright smile or sharp wit or hopeful eyes.

Was that what love was? Jacob had never wasted much thought on "love." He'd never wanted it. He'd never even thought he was capable of feeling it; it was his detachment, after all, that made him so good at his job.

 _Is this it?_ he wondered. He thought of Lizzie, of how he was one of the two people alive allowed to call her that, and of how "Scott" or even "Elizabeth" sounded so _wrong_ anymore. He thought of the walking bundle of contradictions he'd come to find so intoxicating. She was cold and hard one moment, soft and warm the next. When pushed, she could terrify grown men with just her demeanor, but that same presence was the steady one that soothed his nerves without any apparent effort.

Before Liz, Jacob had thought he'd seen everything, and maybe he had, but he'd never seen it all together. She was nothing like he'd ever known before; maybe it made sense that he'd responded by feeling what he'd never thought he could.

Liz knocked on his door, and he called for her to let herself in.

"Hey," she greeted, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "Smells good."

"Thanks," he relaxed into the embrace, and when had that stopped being a conscious decision? "Almost done. How was your day?"

"Worse than yours."

 _Oh, if only you knew,_ Jacob laughed.

"Tom" only looked confused, and mildly concerned, turning to face her as he asked, "What makes you say that?" The question startled a laugh out of her, but not the carefree one he so loved.

"Well, I _hope_ your day wasn't as bad as mine! If it was, my world view's going to suck a lot more than it already does."

Jacob grimaced, "That bad?"

"We're officially switching our focus off this case. Apparently, our time and energy will be better spent elsewhere while he's still out there somewhere, killing people. It just-"

"Hey. Lizzie, hey, look at me." He gently took her chin in his hand and tilted her head so that she met his eyes. "You are _good_ at what you do. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but everything's going to be okay. So, maybe it'll take this guy a little longer to make a mistake, but it'll happen, and when it does, you'll be there. And, in the meantime, you'll do a lot of good working on other cases."

She managed a small but genuine smile. "Thanks."

She still seemed a little tense, so he tried to distract her with a kiss. She smiled up at him when they parted until her eyes widened as she noticed-

"Babe, what happened to your head?"

"Oh," Jacob grinned, deciding to kill two birds with one stone, "Now it's _my_ turn to tell horror stories about work. You ready for this, Lizzie?"

"I don't know," she teased, "What did you do?"

"What makes you think it was my fault? So, I step outside the classroom for – I kid you not – less than a _minute_ to talk to one of the other teachers about this math worksheet, and when I get back in, I find that in the _seconds_ I was gone, the kids decided it was Prank Day and turned all their desks around to face the back of the room, and I'm so busy trying to get them all to fix it, I don't notice little Jenny had stowed away her cat in her backpack and decided to let it loose while I was out until I take a step, and there it is! And, when I tripped over it, I hit my head on my desk on the way down." Jacob was feeling rather proud of the sheer ridiculousness of the story as Lizzie burst into laughter – the warm, free laughter he'd wanted to hear.

"There is _no way_ that happened!"

"Tom" tried to look offended, "You don't believe me?"

Liz responded with a knowing smirk, "You tripped over your own two feet, didn't you?"

He mock-grimaced, "How'd you know?"

"You're a terrible liar, Babe."

If only she knew…All told, he was glad she didn't. She'd never look at him the same way again if she knew what he was capable of. What he'd done.

"Yeah, well…Made you laugh, didn't I?" he smiled.

"Yeah," she grinned, earlier tension nowhere to be seen, and surprised him with a kiss. "I needed that."

"What?"

 _"You,"_ she said simply, eyes sparkling with sincerity.

Lizzie's masks were almost as good as his own, but Jacob knew that wasn't what it was when she smiled up at him like all was right with the world. She'd seen the evil out there, maybe not as much as he, but enough, yet she was still so bright and hopeful. She had taught him, for the first time, that there really was a difference between innocence and naivety. There was darkness in her world, and she knew it – She stared it in the face every day! – But, she didn't let it drive out the light. Maybe he could learn to do the same.

Before he'd met Lizzie, all Jacob had known had been the darkness. She was the light that drove it back. She held a darkness of her own inside, he knew, but somehow it only served to make her shine all the brighter. If that was love…Well, Jacob had never known what he'd been missing, but now that he did, he didn't think he could return to an existence without it.

The next day, he started looking at engagement rings.


	5. Worth It

**A.N.:** Finally! I've been wanting to write this literally since before I wrote chapter 1 of this fic. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did :)

 _ **Worth It**_

In the two years since they'd entered into their arrangement, Raymond Reddington and Jacob Phelps had never met. The older man had not paid much attention to the operative and had never shown any interest in his methods, but he hadn't failed to notice his engagement. He had not been pleased, to say the least, and had made his displeasure _quite_ clear. Suffice it to say, Jacob had seen a change in employment.

He wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of spying on Lizzie – and, he'd long since stopped wondering when she'd gained such a hold over him – but if this "Berlin's" ultimate plans included hurting her, Jacob needed to know about it; he knew anyone else would follow orders without question. At least, this way, he could protect her.

"Stop it," a voice sounded in his ear, and the object of his thoughts hit him playfully in the arm.

"Ow! What?"

"This is our _engagement party,_ and you're thinking about _work."_

Well…She was technically right about that, though thank heaven she didn't know what Jacob thinking about "work" really meant. It was one of those moments in which Liz knew him so completely and yet not at all.

"You're right, sorry," he grimaced, "That's it, I promise. No more." And, he meant it. There was no imminent danger to deal with, and worrying about future complications wouldn't solve anything. He was getting _married_ – how had he managed _that?_ Grinning, he pulled Liz in for a kiss.

"What was that for?" she smiled up at him when they parted.

"I just wanted to kiss my future _wife."_

"Congratulations, Liz," Gary teased, "You're marrying a total sap."

"Hey," Jacob retorted, "Just 'cause you're single…"

Their engagement party wasn't a grand affair, just a few friends sharing some drinks at their favorite bar. It was…perfect.

Jacob downed the shot someone had set in front of him to keep from laughing out loud. He'd just had to think it, hadn't he? Alright, when was the disaster coming? There was no such thing as perfection in his life, and if there was, reality was sure to set in and wreck it immediately. Lizzie was the only exception, and he prayed she'd remain so. He didn't want to return to an existence without her – _existence,_ he thought, because it hadn't been life.

Lizzie must have noticed the maudlin turn of his thoughts because she asked, "Babe? Are you okay?"

He turned his head to face her, and the world started spinning. _What?_

"I'm fine," he tried to say, "Just a little dizzy," but all he managed to force out was, "Can't…breathe."

What was happening? What had he- _the shot._ He hadn't seen where it had come from.

 _Idiot,_ he thought as he lost control of his body and fell to the floor, gasping in vain for breath. He, of all people, should have known better. He should have been especially on his guard now. How could he have been so careless?

It was Lizzie, he thought. Something about the woman he'd originally been hired to protect made him feel so safe. He'd put too much stock in the sentiment and grown complacent. If he survived, this might turn out to be just the sort of wakeup call he needed. She was capable, but she couldn't guard against a threat she didn't know existed. He _had_ to survive, and he had to be more careful. As long as Lizzie was in the dark, he'd have to protect them both.

Speak of the devil…Well, she definitely wasn't a devil, but she wasn't an angel either; he wouldn't have fallen for her if she was, and his thoughts were wandering, that meant he was running out of time, right?

Speaking of Lizzie, she was kneeling by his side. She'd turned him onto his back to aid his breathing – though it hadn't made much difference – and gotten Gary to call 911. Now, she was asking for-

 _An Epi-pen? Not sure how much good it'll do, but nice try, Liz. Sorry, Babe._

It didn't matter. No one had one, anyway.

As Jacob felt himself slipping away, he focused on Lizzie. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw before- well, before whatever happened.

She was frantic, desperate. _Terrified._ He saw it in her eyes. But, she kept all that at bay. She was completely in control, focused on the problem at hand. No sitting back and worrying for his Lizzie, no, she was doing everything in her power to _fix it._ She was-

digging through her purse for some reason. What was she looking for? Jacob had a flashback to the pill bottle she'd pulled out of her purse on that day almost two years ago when he'd first given her a second glance. With some trepidation, he thought, _Do I want to know?_

Well, whatever it was, she seemed to have found it, as she said, "I'm sorry, Tom," turning toward him with- was that a _pen?_ "But, this will help you breathe."

Looking up at his fiancée as she impaled his throat with a pen, the only coherent thought Jacob could form was, _If I die right now, you are so worth it._ He didn't think he'd ever loved her more than in that moment.

It was his last thought before he blacked out.

* * *

Jacob woke up in a hospital. Like, a proper one. _Well,_ he thought, _there's a first time for everything._

 _Including being poisoned by your disgruntled former employer and surviving only because your fiancée – whom you were never supposed to get close to in the first place, who was supposed to be just another job to you – stabbed you in the throat with a pen._

 _Well, life's been stranger._

 _Right?_

 _On second thought…_

"Tom?" At the sound of her voice, Jacob turned his head toward the woman seated at his bedside.

 _Liz._

"Don't try to talk," she preempted. "Your throat's pretty messed up. From when I…you know. There's no permanent damage or anything," she hastened to reassure, "but it'll take a little while to heal."

Jacob managed a small smile in an effort to let her know everything would be alright, but she seemed really upset, though she maintained a calm enough façade. Until a crack appeared.

"Babe…The doctors said…They said it looks like someone tried to _poison_ you."

Right. Of course, they'd noticed. Jacob widened his eyes, feigning surprise and mouthing, _What?_

It was the appropriate response, the expected one. But, not the right one. The dam burst.

"There's no reason anyone would want to hurt you like that, except for…Tom, someone _poisoned_ you, and it's probably my fault, and then I _stabbed_ you-" She broke off, struggling to fight back the tears that threatened to spill.

At times like this, Jacob Phelps wanted to murder Tom Keen. Jacob wanted nothing more than to tell Liz what had really happened, that it wasn't her fault and that he could _handle_ it. That this was his life, and she didn't have to worry.

So, he did what he always did at times like this and conveyed all that in the only way he could without breaking cover.

 _You haven't scared me off yet,_ he mouthed silently, eyes boring into hers. It was, perhaps, the most honest he'd ever been.


	6. Wakeup Call

**A.N.** All dialogue in this chapter is taken from the Pilot episode.

 _ **Wakeup Call**_

Jacob could definitely think of better ways to be woken up than by a face full of dog. _Seriously, dude?_ He couldn't, however, think of anything better to wake up to than Lizzie, really, truly still there. They'd been married for the past two years, and it was still a bit of a surprise to find her there beside him every morning.

The next seven minutes were a mad dash around the house, leaving him barely any time to think beyond _clothes-coffee-transportation,_ as the couple whirled around each other in a frantic sort of dance. As he called out to Liz in passing, reminding her of the adoption meeting set for that afternoon, a part of him paused to marvel that _this was his life_ now – that this was actually _happening,_ that he and Lizzie were going to have a _baby_ together – but, he pushed it to the back of his mind, focusing on getting out the door as quickly as humanly possible.

As Lizzie joined him outside, he couldn't help but stare. Apparently, the limitations of what was 'humanly possible' didn't apply to his wife. Jacob could get up, get things together, and get going in record time – it was sort of a necessity in his profession – but he did so on a very basic level of functionality, concerned only with the practical considerations of just what was absolutely necessary to get out and get the job done. Lizzie, though…

"What?" she asked.

"We both woke up seven minutes ago. I'm pretty sure my pants are on backwards and I can barely see straight. But you are somehow dressed, composed, and as beautiful as the day I met you."

"I think I'm forgetting something."

"Yeah," he said, pulling out her badge. Well, no one was perfect.

But she was the closest to it he'd ever seen, he reflected as she reassured him that she wouldn't let her job interfere with their family. She meant it, but he could also see how excited she was; she'd worked hard for this, and he knew how much it meant to her.

"Man, I am so proud of you." And, he was.

"Thanks."

"You worked so hard for this. Are you nervous?"

"No," she said, and he believed her, proud of her confidence and fortitude. "But I am very late."

Then, it happened. Because, in two years of nuptial bliss, Jacob Phelps had forgotten one very important fact. Nothing in his life was normal, and that included Lizzie.

Of course, when the helicopter appeared overhead, he didn't immediately assume that it had to do with them. The F.B.I. vans converging on their home were kind of hard to miss, though. The real kicker, though, was that Jacob truly didn't know why they were there. Though, by the sheer magnitude of it all, he was able to draw one solid conclusion.

Whatever was going on, and however it involved Liz, it was Reddington's fault.

The way the blond Fed demanded "Agent Keen" accompany him set off warning bells in Jacob's mind. On the surface, the request was civil, but it carried an edge, sounding barely one step away from an arrest. The helicopter sent kind of a loud message.

"Babe," Liz said, her tone even, "I don't think I'm going to need to take the car." She looked completely unruffled, handing him the keys as if none of this were out of the ordinary. He could see, of course, the tension in her posture, the concern in her eyes demonstrating that she knew exactly how serious the situation was, but her control was perfect, her mask flawless to most eyes.

As Jacob was left alone, standing on the doorstep in the wake of the furious nightmare that would soon become his wife's life, he was forced to acknowledge that the dream he'd been living would soon come to an end. He'd managed to keep reality at bay for two wonderful years, but it was back and taking far too much pleasure in bursting his bubble. Things with Reddington were coming to a head, he was sure of it, and Lizzie would be right in the middle. The best Jacob could hope for as things spiraled out of control was that he'd somehow manage to keep her safe. And maybe, just maybe, that she wouldn't hate him utterly when the dust settled.


	7. Things Fall Apart

_**Things Fall Apart**_

Liz had been slightly _off_ since the Zamani incident – and, Jacob was still kicking himself over that one; Zamani had been careful, obviously knowing exactly with whom he was dealing, but there had to have been _something_ he could've done.

Lizzie could so easily have been hurt, and there would've been nothing he could've done. She was safe, but she _had_ been affected by it all. She hid it well, but she was tense, on edge. And, she was keeping him at arm's length.

Well, hopefully, he could fix that, at least. It was "Movie Night," and probably Lizzie's first opportunity to relax and stop worrying about everything since it had all gone down. Definitely their first opportunity for some real down-time together. He knew she'd been through a lot lately, and what he knew wasn't even the full story; Liz's entire life was classified right now, and he was sure it had something to do with Reddington. That had to be taking a toll on her. Maybe this was what she needed to finally open up.

"So, what do you want to watch?"

"Uh, how about _not_ action?" he tried to joke. "I think I've had enough action for a while."

"You have no idea," she muttered with a strange look in her eyes. Jacob blinked at the tone of her voice. Her "I'm fine" façade was finally starting to slip, and he caught a glimpse of what she was really going through. He felt like a hypocrite every time he, of all people, gave her flak about keeping secrets, but if that was what it took for her to let him in and unload some of her baggage, he would do it. He would try patience first, though.

For now, all she seemed interested in discussing was movie options. They settled on _Secondhand Lions,_ and Jacob sat next to her on the couch to watch and wait.

About halfway through, she finally broke down, sobbing.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay," he said, holding her close. "You've been through a lot lately, this was a long time coming. You want to tell me what's wrong?"

She snorted through her tears, "You mean, besides _everything?"_

Jacob just waited, and eventually, her tears subsiding, Liz pulled back to look at him as though searching for something. He couldn't tell what, which unsettled him, and as something shifted in Lizzie's eyes, indicating she'd made some sort of decision, he didn't know whether she'd found it.

"I haven't been able to tell you much, but you know I've had some… _really_ rough cases lately." He nodded.

"That's been part of it, and…There's this C.I., who's been…helping with these cases. He first…came forward about the Zamani case." Jacob blinked. A _C.I.?_ There was _no way_ … He filed the information away for later consideration.

"Tom, I…I never told you what I did after you'd been attacked. It…wasn't good."

"What do you mean?" He knew it had shaken Liz, but he hadn't put much thought into what she'd actually _done._ He'd assumed she'd just focused on tracking down Zamani. He remembered her telling him Zamani was dead; had she killed him? That would constitute "not good," right? "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I was sure that C.I. I just told you about had sent Zamani to us. I went to him and asked what he knew about what Zamani was planning next. He wasn't very cooperative. So, I…I grabbed a pen and used it to punch a hole in his carotid, and threatened to let him die right there unless he told me what he knew," she finished the story quickly, her eyes fixed on him intently, sharp as though she was watching for something. This time, it was clear to Jacob what she was looking for; she was trying to gauge his reaction.

Tom Keen would be terrified by the revelation, but that was the last thing Liz needed right now. Jacob had known for a long time what she was capable of, and honestly…He was touched that she was willing to go so far off the reservation for him. If anything, he only loved her more. And a part of him…A part of him couldn't help but hope that if she was willing to go that far off the deep end for him, she might not abhor the real him. He tried to silence that part of himself. Lizzie loving the real him was an impossible dream Jacob was not naïve enough to hope for. He was willing to settle for simply being close to her. She was still waiting for his response, so he found one that felt close enough to middle-ground.

"But…That can't have been legal, right? I mean, didn't you get in trouble?"

"Yeah. The Bureau was… _not happy._ I don't regret it, though," she said, her eyes still riveted to his. He could tell that she meant it, and he could practically _feel_ her nervous anticipation as she waited for his response. He paused a moment to find the words to reassure her without breaking character.

"Lizzie…I know you. You're a _good person._ Whatever happened with this guy…It's going to be okay. _We're_ going to be okay…I love you."

She nodded and said, "I love you too," leaning into him again and resting her head on his shoulder. He wished he could see her expression. She was still upset, but he hoped he'd managed to help at least a little. They were making progress, and he had to believe they'd be okay. After all, that was "worth believing in."

* * *

The next day, Jacob sorted through what he'd learned from Liz the night before. As impossible as it seemed, it sounded like _Reddington_ was working with the _F.B.I._ Jacob had never thought he'd see the day… _Of course,_ Reddington had sent Zamani after him. That was just like him.

Jacob's eyes widened, and he almost burst out laughing as he realized that Lizzie had literally almost _murdered_ the Concierge of Crime. With a _pen._ He kind of wished she'd actually done it, but then, he _really_ didn't want her getting arrested for murder.

It explained why her work had been so demanding lately. He thought back to the night before, when she'd broken down in his arms…and, for the first time, registered what had set her off. The movie. A very specific line in it, to be precise.

"Around my mom, all I hear is lies," Walter had told his uncle, _"I don't know what to believe…"_

Reddington wouldn't have told her the truth, right? No, he wouldn't want to reveal his own part in it all. But, if he'd found a way to sow suspicion…

It would explain why Lizzie had been acting so strange and distant. He remembered finding her looking into their trip to Boston. If she'd matched up the dates…

He remembered how she'd tried to gauge his reactions the night before, and cursed as he realized that he'd made a mistake by not freaking out. It had been a test, and he'd failed. He was torn between admiration for Lizzie and frustration with himself. She had confessed to coming within an inch of cold blooded murder and not even _regretting_ it, and his response had been to ask whether she'd gotten in trouble with the Bureau. _Idiot!_

He tried to remind himself that nothing was certain yet, but he couldn't just dismiss his suspicions. He _needed_ to be certain about this. He tried to think of some hard evidence he could find to confirm or deny his speculation. His go-box. If Liz had found and tampered with that, he'd know she was investigating him.

* * *

A bullet was missing from his gun. That explained why she'd been looking into the Angel Station murder.

So, how did he fix this? A part of him wanted to tell her the truth, wanted to believe that she could accept him for who he was. "If you want to believe in something, then believe in it," Hub had told the kid in the film. Jacob would like to think it was possible that Liz could find it in herself to believe in _him._

He knew he couldn't do that, though. Even if there was the slightest chance she wouldn't just arrest him on the spot, she'd never want to see him again, and he couldn't let that happen. He needed to stay close to protect her.

So, how would he manage that?

He called Liz.

"You need to come home…"


	8. Learning to Swim

**A.N.:** After watching "Mr. Solomon, Conclusion," part of me wanted to just wallow, but I already had this mostly written, so I persevered in posting it. It actually helped cheer me up a little.

 ** _Learning to Swim_**

Jacob's first instinct was to run. It's what he'd been trained to do. It's what he'd always done. He'd never stood his ground in his entire life because he'd never had ground on which to stand – until Lizzie. The woman didn't know the meaning of the word "run." She stood, and she fought. Well, now Jacob would stand with her. Because she was worth fighting for. Because only she could teach him how to swim.

When Jacob had heard that voice on the other end of the line, when he'd realized that this job, this stupid _war,_ was going to take Lizzie from him one way or another – _Please not the other, anything but that_ – he'd begged her to run away with him to Nebraska. But, he'd known it would never work, and it wouldn't be far enough to keep her safe even it if it did, which is the only reason he hadn't actually gone through with it and forced her to choose.

Jacob hadn't been blind; he'd seen for a while the signs that she'd found him out, but he'd run from the knowledge, as if by ignoring it, he could make it not so. When he'd finally had to face the fact that Lizzie knew the truth, he hadn't confronted her; he'd fled, barely pausing long enough to say, "I love you," one last time before calling for immediate extraction.

When it had all come crashing down, and he'd had nothing left to hold onto (except Liz), and she'd finally let him go – physically, that is – he'd run as fast and far as he could, burying himself deep in the first role he could find. When Reddington had shown up, Jacob had tried to keep hiding, but in the end, Lizzie had needed him, and he'd come running back to her, preparing to take flight once more – until he'd realized that, for the first time, he might not have to. For the first time, he might not _want_ to.

* * *

Liz wanted nothing to do with him. Fine. Jacob would leave. The point still stood.

"In that moment," he told her, "I thought, 'maybe there's a world where I don't have to run.'" In order for that to happen, though, he needed the passports.

But, "They're not just passports," she said. "They represent everything I'm trying to forget," and that was when he realized maybe she was running too, and that was something he could understand.

Which was why he was surprised when she looked him in the eye and said, "Our entire marriage…" Jacob couldn't understand as she pressed on, asking him for the truth and analyzing _everything she'd been trying to forget._

 _Why would she do that?_

For him, he finally realized, as she said, "Not if you want to learn how to swim." He'd asked her if she thought it was possible for him to change, to truly stop running, and she'd responded by facing everything from which _she'd_ been running to give him a real answer. Because that was what it had taken for her to _find_ the answer.

Lizzie walked away from him, and it wasn't running. Maybe she didn't want anything to do with him, but she would never again _run_ from what had happened between them. She'd already faced it down and _won._

Jacob could leave now, start that new life he'd been talking about; he had everything he needed. But, he realized, it would still be running. Maybe not in general, but from what really mattered – maybe the _only_ thing that mattered. From the reason he'd wanted to stop running in the first place, the only thing he'd ever been unwilling to leave behind.

Jacob didn't know how to stop running; it was all he'd ever done. But, he knew that Liz could teach him, and if anyone was worth learning to _stand_ for, it was her. So, he did what she'd asked of him.

He was honest.

"Liz, there's more…"

* * *

"I thought you'd be gone," Liz said the next time Jacob saw her, and the question was implied.

"That was the plan," he admitted. "Then, I thought maybe if I stayed," _I'd have stopped running from the only thing that really matters to me. I'd have a shot at being close to you._ "I'd have a shot at a normal life," he said.

And, then, he tried to warn her. Jacob knew Liz didn't run; he'd learned that about her a long time ago, and been reminded of it when last they'd spoken. But, he'd hoped she'd be open to the idea of a strategic retreat.

He'd been wrong.

"Red has answers about me," she said, "and I'm staying until I get them."

Jacob had been married to the woman long enough to know when she wouldn't back down. So, he did the only thing he could.

He offered to stand with her.

"Well, maybe I could help you get those answers."

Jacob had hurt Liz, he knew he had. Even while trying to protect her, he'd screwed up a lot along the way, but he was trying to fix that. He was here, now, making the decision to face the consequences of his actions. To try to help rebuild what he'd had a hand in breaking. He was going to stand, and looking at Reddington, he knew where he had to start.

He was new to this, and unsure of how to go about it, so he fortified himself with a breath, and did what Liz had taught him.

 _You have to be honest._

"I'm telling you this," he concluded his words to the older man, "because I don't want you to be confused about my part in any of this– you, Liz. All of it. I'm out. I'm done." _I'm not running anymore._

So, when Liz needed him, he came. And when she expressed her fear and doubt, quoting his earlier warning, he told her, "What I said– What I meant was that it would devour most people. It's not going to devour you."

He wouldn't let it. He knew, despite her misgivings, she would press on and fight this battle. She would see it through to the bitter end, like she always did.

And, through it all, he would stand beside her. And, this time, she would know it.


	9. Learning to Swim Pt 2

_**Learning to Swim Part II**_

When Lizzie had come to him the night before, Jacob had known he still had a chance. She probably regretted it already, and he knew it had been a "moment of weakness" type thing, but it wouldn't have happened at all if there wasn't _something_ still there. Somewhere, deep down, Liz still felt that she could rely on him, and Jacob would prove her right.

So, when she looked at him incredulously and asked what he was hoping for, and he told her his "dream scenario" of the two of them sailing away from Reddington and all his crap, Jacob knew that was all it was – a dream. It would never happen because Liz didn't run from things; she fought them until she either won or…Well, she hadn't lost yet. The point was, Jacob knew she wasn't going anywhere, and as long as that held true, neither was he.

When he'd made that resolution, though, he hadn't expected just what they'd have to face. In all fairness, there wasn't exactly much precedent for a black-ops F.B.I. Agent being branded a Russian sleeper agent and framed for reigniting the Cold War via assassination. How was he supposed to have seen _that_ coming?

So, he did the only thing he could. They had to leave. He knew Liz didn't like running; it wasn't in her nature, but they had no choice, surely she could see that. There was no winning this one; it just couldn't be done. But she looked him in the eye, and even as she said, "I don't think I can do it on my own," Jacob knew she would try, with or without him. And he realized that maybe standing was like Liz had told him honesty was – you couldn't pick and choose. In any case, he couldn't stop her from fighting this. All he could do was watch her back while she did.

* * *

"Tell me what to do," Liz said, and Jacob knew he couldn't. Well, he could, but Liz wouldn't listen; she didn't have it in her to let anyone else make decisions for her. So, he didn't even try, but said the only thing he could, "You're still bleeding."

She talked about regrets, then, and Jacob wasn't sure what he wanted to hear as he asked, "What could you possibly regret?"

"Not saying yes."

"Yes to what?" he prodded against his better judgement. The last thing he needed was false hope.

"You," Liz said, and whatever might happen afterwards, Jacob couldn't bring himself to wish she hadn't. "Take me with you."

"Don't say that." _Because we both know you don't mean it. Maybe you wish you could, but we both know you can't._

"Liz, if you go away with me, you'll never get answers. You'll never find out who you really are."

"I don't need to know who I am to know what I want."

"What do you want, Liz?" Because even if she didn't mean it, even if she took it back afterwards, he needed to hear it, just this once.

"You," she told him. And, he thought it might be true.

But, that didn't mean it was enough. He knew her too well to believe there was any chance she'd stop fighting this. However much she might want him, she wasn't willing to run with him. He was beginning to think she wasn't capable of it. But, that was okay. Because he was willing to stand with her.

And, even if only for this moment, they could pretend. As Jacob took Lizzie into his arms once more, he thought it might be enough after all.

* * *

Jacob couldn't say he was surprised when he saw the gun, but he was curious. Liz looked focused on something in particular, excited even, as though she had a plan.

"Is that a gun, or are you just happy to see me?" Looking at her, he knew before she even opened her mouth she'd found something.

"I'll be back," she said, and it was like every time she'd gone off to work while they'd been married, knowing the risks, and had told him not to worry, claiming she'd be back in time for dinner.

"No, you won't," he said.

"I got to- Tom…"

"Go," Jacob told her, and it was like all those times before when he'd pretended to believe her. Because, when she said she had to go, he knew it was the truth. Because that was who she was. And, as much as he hated it, it was one of the reasons he loved her so much.

Liz gave him a lingering look even as she walked away, and that was when he realized that she'd never said anything about regretting what had passed between them. She wanted him. Lizzie knew and wanted _Jacob,_ though she still called him Tom, and that was more than he'd ever dared hope.

* * *

Jacob had forgotten what it was like. The waiting. It was, perhaps, the only thing he'd truly _hated_ about being Tom Keen.

He should have gone with her.

Then, finally, his phone rang. "Liz?"

"I don't have a lot of time-"

"Are you okay?"

"Tom-"

"Liz, _are you okay?"_

She sighed, exasperated, "Yes, I'm fine, but Tom, you need to listen to me. I've got everything under control, but things are going to be messy for a while."

"What does that mean? Liz-"

"It means, you should go."

"Come with me."

"Come on, Tom, we both knew that was never going to happen. It was nice to pretend while it lasted, but…Just go. I'll be fine, I promise, but there's no reason for you to stay."

"Liz-"

"Goodbye, Tom." She hung up.

And, he left.


	10. Learning to Swim Pt 3

_**Learning to Swim Part III**_

Why had Liz told him to go? The question haunted Jacob.

As did the fact that he'd gone, barely pausing to question it, even knowing that she wasn't alright. That, though she might never admit it, she needed help.

He turned to the news, not knowing what he hoped to find. He doubted it would be anything good, but he needed to know.

Lizzie had sought asylum at the Russian Embassy. Jacob wasn't sure whether that was more brilliant than it was risky. Probably not, considering she'd been forced to flee, anyway, and was now in the wind.

Her hurried call ran through his mind for the millionth time.

 _You should go._

 _I've got everything under control…_ Obviously, she didn't.

 _Just go. I'll be fine…_

 _Things are going to be messy for a while…_

 _There's no reason for you to stay…_

She'd never said she didn't want him. She'd never said she regretted letting him close again.

Could she have sent him away…Because she cared? Had she been trying to protect him, to keep him from being caught up in the coming storm she faced?

Jacob didn't want to get his hopes too high. Since he'd come back, Lizzie had tolerated him when necessary, leaned on him when she felt she had no one else. Until recently, she'd given no indication of being interested in anything more, and the few overtures she had made could easily be attributed to the stress of the circumstances.

What he did know was that she needed help. He couldn't leave her to sink or swim on her own. He knew she wouldn't just lie down and let this pass. She'd find a way to fight it, and he wouldn't let her do it alone; he'd find a way to fight with her.

The only problem was, he didn't know how.

* * *

When Jacob had made the decision to go to Wing Yee's, he'd known exactly how stupid it was. Liz would have no reason to think he might be there; there was next to no chance she'd reach out. But, it was all he could do after Ressler had refused his help.

Now, Jacob sat at a table feeling useless. He was doing about as much good as if he'd never come back at all. That was where Harold Cooper found him.

Finally, there was something he could _do._

* * *

Jacob was in. Then, his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number. That could mean a lot of things for someone like him.

It was Liz.

"You called Wing Yee's. I was hoping you would." He didn't know what had prompted her to reach out to him, but he loved her for knowing how. That particular method of communication had, after all, been her idea.

"I can't believe you came back." He couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Hadn't he proven already that she could count on him? Then, again, he'd left in the first place.

"Of course I came back. As soon as I heard, I came back." Then, because he realized he had no idea, and that scared him, "Are you alright?"

"You had a plan," was all Liz said, "The boat-"

"I wish you would have come with me."

"I know you went to Ressler and offered to help."

 _Yeah, for all the good it did._

That was probably how she'd known Jacob hadn't left, so maybe it'd done some good, after all.

"Yeah, I did," he said, "and I'm going to do everything I can."

"Listen, Tom, you don't have to do this."

Liz really cared. It really had been for his sake she'd told him to go. He marveled that she'd found it in herself to care for him again.

"I do have to do this."

"You said you wanted out of this life – out of the secrets and the lies and the risk. I don't want to be the one to drag you back into this."

She didn't understand. He'd never wanted out until he'd met her, and he'd never desired it for its own sake. He'd wanted to be with her, and that was the only way he'd seen to do it.

"You're not," he said, "You haven't." She'd actually sent him away from it all, told him to go, or had she forgotten that little detail? He was choosing this.

"Listen, Tom, you- you don't understand. I have done so many terrible things. I have hurt so many people."

Did she really think he had some saintly, idealized image of her? What, like he was just in love with the idea of her, as- as some kind of representation of the normal life she thought he wanted? Fat chance, after those four months on _her_ boat. Granted, he generally tried not to think about that, but it had happened. He _knew_ what she was capable of. But, he also knew _her._

"I don't care what you've done. Liz, I know who you are. I took that for granted for a long time, but I don't now. So, you're right. I do have plans. I'm coming to save you."

He had grown so used to knowing that she _cared._ Ironically enough, it had taken that time he so tried to ignore to make him stop taking it for granted.

"Tom. Listen-"

"It's too late," Jacob said, "'Cause I'm already in."

"In where? Where are you? What have you done?"

Was she…worried about him?

Or just afraid what his methods might entail?

"I got to go," he said, turning back to his mark. "I love you."

Maybe it wasn't too much to hope that she believed him.

* * *

Jacob stood alone, removed from the group of friends and well-wishers, remembering his own engagement party. It had been a bit more… _eventful_ than this one. He definitely could have done without Reddington's interference, but Lizzie's response had confirmed that he was making the right decision, had reminded him that she was worth every obstacle. It had also, somehow, turned the memory into a fond one.

Well, he definitely had worse memories of Liz after the truth had come out.

As Gwen approached him, striking up a conversation, he watched her carefully, curious as to what she wanted.

"Tell me, Mr. Buckley, do you believe in love at first sight?

"I don't know," Jacob said, wondering where Gwen was going with this conversation. Then, because she expected more of an answer, he thought of Liz. There had once been a time he'd thought of her as nothing more than his mark. The idea was laughable, now, after everything they'd been through, but it was true.

He remembered when she'd first intrigued him. He remembered slowly being drawn ever closer to her, never realizing what was happening until it was too late. He _definitely_ remembered the denial. But, even after all this time, he couldn't pinpoint when, exactly, he'd fallen in love with her. He didn't think it had been in any single moment. It had been a gradual thing.

"I think love is, uh, more of an acquired taste," he said.

"Have you ever acquired it – love?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Once."

 _And, for a while, I was able to pretend she loved me too. She thought she did, at least._

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Love isn't like an orgasm, Mr. Buckley. Once is quite enough."

More than enough, for someone like Jacob. It never should have happened in the first place.

But, he would die before he could ever bring himself to regret it, even with all the pain it had caused him. It was worth it. _Lizzie_ was worth it.

"Yeah," he said, because Gwen expected an answer. "It should have been. Maybe it will be. Who knows, right?"

When her world had fallen apart at the seams, Liz had made the time to call him, telling him to leave, to get clear of it all. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't care. Once, he would have thought it impossible for anyone to open themselves up again to someone who'd hurt them as badly as he had Liz, but he knew better now. Love really was madness. It was why he'd never been able to hate Liz, even when she'd been torturing him. It was why he'd come back for her afterward, and why he always would.

"I've loved Asher Sutton since the moment I laid eyes on him," Gwen said, and Jacob could tell she was getting to the point. "I love everything about him, including his peculiar affinity for _collectibles,_ even at my engagement party."

They shared a laugh, then, though for different reasons.

 _You think this is bad?_ Jacob thought, _You don't even_ want _to know about_ my _engagement party._

"On one condition," the woman continued, "That they look me in the eye and promise me that they will never, ever do anything to harm the man that I love."

As she looked at him with those hard, searching eyes that declared _I won't let you hurt the man I love,_ Jacob was reminded of Lizzie. Of how she'd nearly killed Reddington in cold blood on just _suspicion_ – albeit, _correct_ suspicion – of being involved with Zamani's attack on her husband. Of how she hadn't regretted it in the least.

He tried not to hope she could ever love him like that again. He didn't quite succeed, and felt the fool for it.

Of course, Gwen wasn't threatening him; she wouldn't know how. She wasn't _half_ as dangerous as Liz. But, Jacob knew what he needed to say.

"I promise."

He watched as the woman relaxed, surprised by the twinge of- was that _guilt_ he was feeling? Definitely sympathy.

The poor woman didn't know what his promises were generally worth.

But, this was one that he hoped he'd be able to keep.

* * *

Jacob woke to the clanking of chains, a wave of despair washing over him. He hadn't been prepared for Liz to hate him so much. He knew, though, that she wasn't doing this because of her feelings; this was cold professionalism, and any feelings she might have had for him weren't strong enough to interfere with her interrogation either way. He wasn't sure which hurt more.

A second later, full awareness set in, and he cursed silently. Evidently, those four months had messed him up way more than he'd thought. He shoved it all back, focusing on the situation at hand.

"I want to talk to Charlie Volkens."

"You got any idea where you are, sport? You know what we do here?"

Yeah. Jacob knew _exactly_ what he'd gotten himself into. And, what he'd dragged Asher Sutton into.

"Asher Sutton," he tried, "He has nothing to do with this." He knew the effort would be futile, but he _had_ to try.

"Oh, yeah, he does. Tonight he does. You two got ringside seats."

"He's innocent," Jacob insisted, "You don't have to hurt him." He knew it would mean nothing to these people. What surprised him was that it meant something to him. When had that happened? He'd always kept collateral damage to a minimum – the quieter he kept his work, the better – but it had never been an emotional decision. Now, he found that he actually _cared_ about the innocent life his actions might have destroyed. The only person he'd ever really cared about hurting before was Lizzie. When had that changed?

Ultimately, none of it made any difference. "I'm sorry," Jacob murmured as he drove the knife home, and to his surprise, it was true. He wasn't just thinking that normal people, with a conscience, would say it was wrong, or that Liz would disapprove; he actually felt remorse. But, he would do it again in a heartbeat. If there was a choice to be made, he would always choose Liz.

At the end of the day, he got Karakurt, and that was all that really mattered. It was worth it.

* * *

The next time Jacob saw Liz, she was blonde. It was a surprisingly good look on her. Then again, she could probably pull off just about anything. She'd make a great deep-cover operative; she deserved a better life than that, though.

"Some operative I am," Jacob said, "I barely recognize my own wife. Ex-wife." He tried not to look too pained at the correction. He remembered when she'd told him about the annulment. She'd brought the papers to prove it.

He'd been thinking about that time far too often lately. It was over, done and buried, and he shoved it from his mind once more, focusing on the current conversation. On where he and Liz were now.

"I should get back," he said eventually. Liz stopped him.

"You said I should have stayed on the boat and never come back."

"The truth is I never should have left," Jacob said with complete sincerity, "You were in trouble, and I walked away." He should never have abandoned her, for however short a time.

"You had a dream," Liz consoled, "I wanted you to follow it. I still do." Not because she wanted him gone. Because she _cared_ about him. About what _he_ wanted. And, that was when he knew he'd made the right decision.

So he said, "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Liz. I am following it." Because she was the only dream worth following he'd ever had. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn't so impossible as he'd once thought.

* * *

When it was all over, he proposed because she needed to know: He wasn't going anywhere.

Her answer wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. It essentially amounted to, "We'll see," and that was something he could handle. She didn't know yet whether she could commit herself to him so fully once more.

He would stick around until she figured it out.


	11. Especially Now

**_Especially Now_**

"…to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Liz's eyes never left his. Man, she was beautiful.

"I would," she said coolly, addressing herself to Jacob, "but you aren't Tom Keen."

It took a moment for his mind to process her words, and then he was lying on the ground, bleeding out from the three gunshot wounds in his stomach. Where had she gotten the gun?

Of course, knowing Liz, it would be more surprising if she _hadn't_ secreted a gun in her wedding dress.

The world shifted, a ship replacing the church, people melting away until only he remained, with Liz standing over him.

 _Just like old times…_

"Liz," he forced out, "What…?"

"Please," she scoffed, "No one has _ever_ wanted Jacob. Why should I be any different?"

A moment later, he woke to Lizzie's concerned face hovering over him.

"Tom? Are you okay?"

Jacob shook his head, not in answer, but in an effort to clear it. He met with questionable success. He wasn't one to put much stock in nightmares, but his ears still rang with what the dream-Liz had said to him.

"Tom?"

"Please," he blurted out his first thought, his filter dissolving in the face of his disorientation, "Just this once, would you please just call me Jacob?"

Abruptly, Liz fell into a heavy silence, and a part of Jacob had regained awareness enough to regret his rash request, realizing that she was analyzing him based on it. He knew her analysis would be more accurate than he'd like.

Mostly, though, he was preoccupied by what she'd said to him – or, what his image of her had. Whatever; it didn't matter.

It was true.

He'd once let himself hope that she could know him as he truly was and find it in herself to love him, anyway.

"Jacob," Liz said, interrupting his thoughts and filling the name with as much love as she ever had "Tom."

It hurt to hear, because he knew that the latter was what she meant when she said it.

"Liz, don't-"

"I didn't know it was that important to you."

"It's not. It was stupid. I was half-asleep when I said it, just forget about-"

 _"T-_ _Jacob."_

He sighed at her tone. That was her _not-backing-down-till-kingdom-come_ voice. He tried one last time to brush her off, more on principle than in any real hope of success.

"I'm fine. Just don't call me Jacob, I didn't mean it."

She paused a moment, but he knew her too well to believe she was giving up. No, she was looking for the best method of attack. It didn't take her long to find it.

"Why not?"

He hesitated, but there was nothing for it. She wouldn't rest until he gave her the truth on this. And, he'd promised no more lies.

"Look, I know you still see me as Tom, and I'm okay with that. Really. I'll be whoever you need me to be. Just don't call me Jacob when I know you don't mean it."

Well, he'd surprised her, judging by the look in her eyes. But she would reciprocate soon enough; he had no clue how she'd react to what he'd said. He didn't have long to wait.

"You," Liz said, voice and eyes hard, "are an _idiot."_

"What?"

"I never loved Tom Keen. I fell in love with the little pieces of _you_ I saw slipping through the mask."

"Liz-"

 _"Shut up,_ and _listen._ You first gave me a second glance after I _poisoned_ myself to make a point. You felt comfortable around me after I _shot and killed_ a man in front of you. You fell even more in love with me after I stabbed you in the throat with a pen. You barely batted an eye when I told you I nearly _murdered_ a man – with nothing more than a pen – and didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse-"

"Well, it's not like I'm a fan of Reddington," Jacob muttered, unable to help himself. Liz ignored him.

"The point is, what I fell in love with was your ability to stand beside me, come hell or high water. Your willingness to accept me, even at my darkest. And, none of that was the naïve civilian you pretended to be. That was _you._ "

Jacob thought for a moment, mulling over the incidents Lizzie had listed. It was true he'd let quite a bit slip…

"I kept calling you Tom, not because I see you as you were – or pretended to be – but because you didn't become a different person; you just finally let me see the parts of you you'd always kept hidden."

Jacob knew she meant it, but did that make it true? Had she actually seen and accepted who he really was? He didn't know.

"Okay," he said simply. Liz searched his eyes for a moment and didn't look satisfied with what she saw, but she let it go. Lying beside him, she raised a hand to gently trace his scars. There weren't many; someone like him couldn't afford many mistakes. He wondered if she was thinking about the explanations he'd fed her when she'd first discovered them all.

Her hand stilled over the one on the lower right side of his abdomen.

"Was it really appendicitis?" she murmured.

"No," he admitted, hoping she would drop it. No such luck.

"What was it?"

"Why do you want to know?" he hedged.

"Because it's a part of you."

"Liz," Jacob sighed, "It's…not a good story."

"Obviously."

"Lizzie-"

 _"Jacob._ Please, just tell me."

"Fine. You want to know how I got that scar? I got it in a fight on a mission in which I killed four innocent people. Civilians. Collateral damage, you know how it goes." He spoke sardonically, his voice sharp and biting as it always was when she backed him into a corner. "Are you happy now? Now you've been reminded what a monster you married?"

He carefully watched her face, and she just as carefully kept it blank, looking at him with guarded eyes for a long moment before slowly leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. He was too surprised to return the kiss, and she kept it short, pulling away in favor of answering him.

"I've known for a long time what you're capable of. The sort of things you've done. You _did_ kill an innocent man in front of me, remember?" Her voice was almost _light._ Her eyes boring into his with complete sincerity, voice filled with unconditional love as she spoke his name, she said what Jacob had so often, echoing the best reassurance he'd been able to give her while masquerading as Tom Keen.

"I know you, _Jacob._ And, you haven't scared me off yet."

And he believed her.

* * *

Wedding days were often said to take on a surreal quality, but Jacob was pretty sure it was usually for more mundane reasons than the groom's former handler showing up to kill him – after, of course, the lecture was over.

"Where do you think we went wrong? When did you start to feel _love_ for Elizabeth Keen?"

When, indeed? Jacob could remember moments when she'd surprised him, when he'd grown to feel respect and affection for her. He could even pinpoint when he'd realized that he loved her. But, when had it actually happened?

"I don't know. I just know that it happened. And I'm really glad that it did."

"Even now?"

"Especially now." And it was true. He'd never loved Liz more than in recent days. Ever since his nightmare, she'd called him Jacob, and he'd known she understood exactly what it meant. She knew him, and she loved him, anyway.

He was going to die. But he was going to die knowing that Liz wanted to marry him – again – this time knowing exactly what she was choosing. That Liz wanted to raise their baby with him. That Liz _loved_ him – so much that she would probably personally hunt down both Gina and the Major and kill them herself.

Being loved by Liz was _worth_ dying for. Hadn't he made that decision the first time around?

He closed his eyes and waited for a bullet that never came.

* * *

"We are gathered here today in celebration of Elizabeth and Tom."

"Jacob," Liz interjected, and Cooper paused.

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking about as startled as Jacob felt.

"Uh, his real name is Jacob. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt – I should have told you earlier, I just didn't think about it. He's pretty much still going by Tom, but," she turned to face her husband. "It's our wedding. I figured we should do it right," she finished with a small smile. Had she ever been more perfect?

* * *

 **A.N.:** So, I know this is a little AU, and I really wanted to keep this series as canon as I could, but I felt it needed to be done. Hope you enjoyed.


	12. Six Impossible Things

**A.N.:** _The chapter that used to be here (Heritage of Stars) is now a separate story under the same title. This chapter used to be a separate story. I switched them around in response to changes in canon. (I am so happy that this one, after the Season 3 Finale, is now canon, while the other has become AU.)_

* * *

 _ **Six Impossible Things**_

Jacob walked, alone and unhindered, through the heart of the blacksite. He was there – unmasked, no less – as an ally, with no pretenses. It was surreal. He didn't belong here; this was Liz's world.

He grimaced as Ressler took a jab at him, calling him the "new Agent Keen," as though she could be replaced. He knew that wasn't what the blond man meant, that he'd held Liz in the highest regard and was only trying to get under Jacob's skin, but that didn't make it any better. No amount of rationalization could reason away the hole in his heart, and the agent had decided to stick a finger in that hole and wriggle it around – in a way that felt disrespectful to Lizzie's memory, whatever his intentions.

Emotions with which he'd never had to struggle before meeting Lizzie roiled in Jacob's gut, but he pushed it all aside, and focused on doing what he could to find whoever had taken her from him; it was all he knew how to do.

* * *

Jacob's phone rang, and the target looked over at him, flashing a small smile. He'd seen that smile before, countless times on countless women, and some part of him must have recognized what it meant, hard as he tried to ignore it, because he could feel the bile rising in his throat at the half-formed thought; he took it out on Aram, "Thanks a lot, man. You just alerted the target to my presence."

He knew, though, that he was being unreasonable, and he needed to get this done, so he swallowed his emotions and moved.

"All right, I'm sitting right next to her. I cannot get any closer." Then, he heard those two little words.

"Something's wrong."

 _Great. Just what everyone goes into an operation wanting to hear._

"I'm not getting any signal from her computer," Aram continues, "Abort. Abort."

"Did you say 'abort'?"

 _Seriously, where did they find this guy?_

If Jacob hadn't been so on edge, he might have laughed.

"Uh, whatever. Just… We need a new plan."

Well, that was obvious.

He wasn't used to giving up on an op so easily, but apparently, the technology wasn't cooperating, and there was nothing he could do about that, so he got ready to retreat.

Then, the mark made contact.

He acted on instinct, claiming a pressing need to "get back to the office" as a convenient means of escape.

"That's unfortunate," she said, with that _look_ in her eyes.

Jacob wanted nothing more than to be gone, but the analytical part of him, the piece of his brain that operated on autopilot according to his years of training and experience made him pause. He knew how important this mission was.

So, he smiled back at the woman, feeling sick to his stomach as he took steps to ensure further contact, another shot at getting what they needed. As the conversation ended, Jacob turned away, feeling filthy. A part of him was distantly surprised at his reaction; he'd never felt anything like this before – except he had, he realized.

This was what he'd felt, what now seemed so long ago, when "Jolene Parker" had kissed him. It was this feeling that had stopped him when he'd considered doing more. He'd never had any qualms about doing what was necessary to finish an assignment, but while slightly unexpected, it was hardly surprising for these feelings to pop up now, of all times. He'd just been unprepared for their intensity.

As he relayed to Aram the little he'd managed to accomplish, he wondered if Lizzie would understand what he was doing. If she would see it as a betrayal. She wasn't there to tell him how she felt about it; that was the problem.

That was why he had to do this.

* * *

"So, if we couldn't get into Amanda's network today, what's going to be different tonight?"

"Tonight," Aram answered, visibly pleased with himself, "you jump her air gap."

Jacob gave the other man a blank look, waiting for an explanation of what he assumed was some kind of techno-babble. Why couldn't techies ever just speak English?

Apparently, the agent misinterpreted Jacob's reaction because he immediately started backtracking, "Whoa. No. Oh, I'm not… No, what I'm suggesting is that you insert this thumb drive into, uh, her laptop. It… It's got an exploit that will give us access to her computer and her company's proprietary telecommunications infrastructure… e-mails, phone calls. Should lead us to her boss. Look, what you thought I was suggesting before, I would never, ever suggest… that."

Jacob had never dreamed Aram would suggest "that," but in any case, this was a conversation he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue, so he simply focused on the mission, asking, "What's the catch?"

"No catch. It's just plug and play. Downloads automatically in one to two minutes."

"Got it," Jacob replied. He knew what he had to do. He just hoped he was ready to do it.

* * *

Amanda asked Jacob for his deep, dark secret, and he was blindsided. He bought some time by asking, "Shouldn't you find out a man's deep, dark secret before you invite him into your apartment?"

Because she had no idea what she was asking, the sort of secrets someone like Jacob harbored. The sort of secrets that had almost cost him Liz.

When she kissed him, he wanted to throw up. He acted on instinct, almost immediately, "spilling" the contents of his glass over her front.

Jacob knew he was being a reckless idiot. Under any other circumstances, he'd have waited for a safe, natural opening to present itself, knowing one would come in the course of the evening. But, desperate, he made his own opening, hurrying over to the target's laptop while she changed in the other room, because he couldn't stand it. He had to get out of there.

And so, he did, almost the second he was able.

"I think I might be moving…too fast," he told his mark.

As he walked away, he didn't think he'd ever been more relieved.

* * *

"I don't want to know how you did it," Aram told Jacob upon his return, "but… yes. Actually, I do want to know how. I don't understand how you _could_ do it."

Jacob bristled at that. He didn't have to explain himself to this guy, who had _asked_ him to do what he'd done, who had no right to judge him. It wasn't like it had been easy.

If Jacob was honest, he'd be forced to admit that the agent's query bothered him because he wondered the same thing.

But, then, he continued, "Agent Keen loved you. I know it's none of my business, but…"

And, Jacob softened at that – because Aram only cared about what Jacob may or may not have done with the target because he cared about Liz.

So, for Liz's sake, Jacob gave the other man the most precious thing he could: The truth, "I loved her too."

"Okay, good. Excellent. I know it probably shouldn't matter, but it somehow does…"

For once, when Aram spoke, Jacob understood exactly what he meant. He shouldn't care what the agent thought of him, but he couldn't help but feel pleased that he believed him.

* * *

They were getting nowhere, and Jacob was growing frustrated.

"Patience," Aram soothed, "Patience," and Jacob noticed his eyes flick to Samar.

He recognized that expression.

"I think you might be a little too patient."

Immediately, the other man began to stutter out a defense. What it amounted to was fear, and Jacob knew exactly how he felt.

Jacob knew from painful personal experience what it was to wait too long; he didn't want Liz's friend to make the same mistake.

So, he told him, "You, Samar, all of you…We're only here because of Liz. So, before it ends…just tell her. You'll never know what she's going to say unless you do."

Jacob had lied to Liz because he'd been afraid she couldn't accept him, but she'd proven him wrong in the most spectacular of ways. Even when she'd had to find out on her own, in the most painful of ways, she'd forgiven him, _loved_ him.

You really never knew until you took a chance.

* * *

More out of habit than anything else, Jacob checked the mail when he returned home. He found a single letter, with no return address.

He sighed, cursing internally. He couldn't deal with this right now, not on top of everything else.

Steeling himself, Jacob opened the envelope and read the letter it contained. It had been typed, so as not to betray the author through the handwriting.

There were only six words: "Come on. It's me and you."

 _Come on. It's me and you,_ echoed in Jacob's head in a painfully familiar voice, _We usually do like six impossible things before breakfast._

 _I love it when you misquote Lewis Carroll._

 _I know. That's why I do it._

The rest of the message was nothing but numbers, grouped in threes.

 _Lewis Carroll._

Jacob grabbed his copy of _Through the Looking Glass_ off the shelf, and flipped it open according to the page-line-letter indications on the page before him.

His chest was tight, his breaths shallow, as he translated the book cipher, trying to stop his hopes from rising.

When he'd assembled the message, it read:

Im sorry it took me so long to reach out. This whole mess has just been crazy. I love you. I promise, someday soon, this is all going to be over, and Im going to come home. Dont waste time grieving for me, and dont do anything stupid while Im not there to watch your back. Stay safe, and take care of Agnes. I love you both.

"Lizzie," Jacob breathed.

It wasn't possible.

But, then, since when had Liz been bound by what was _possible?_

He hardly dared to hope the implications might be true, but what other explanation was there? No one else knew about that conversation they'd had the morning of their wedding.

 _I'm going to come home._

 _I'll hold you to that,_ Jacob thought.

He burned the letter and placed the book back on the shelf. Even as he destroyed the evidence, the effect remained; Jacob's heart rose with the flames.


End file.
